Today, while searching for something that doesn’t really matter, I came across some old writing I did about ten years ago. The first book I actually set out to write was called “Roovantis in Mesunoc” (which,by the way, were just words I made up).
I’d forgotten all about this. It was an extremely lame story about a guy who was kidnapped from Earth, taken to a fantasy world and given an epic quest. But it got me to thinking, so I went back and re-read a lot of other things I’ve written as well.
And it led me to one conclusion. I was a really awful writer when I first started. The text was full of cliche’s and one-dimensional characters. The plot meandered all over the place, with no clear direction or focus. It was abismal.
And now, the trouble is, reading that has left me with a depressing, self-doubty kind of feeling. When I wrote that stuff ten years ago, I thought I was good. I had no idea how bad it was.
What if that’s still the case? What if I’m wasting my time writing, when I should be doing something completely different? What if I’m like those horrible people on Australian Idol who think they’re amazing singers, but end up being incredibly bad? They had no idea.
I know some people would say, write for yourself. Therefore it doesn’t matter if you’re good or not, but I disagree. I write so that other people can read it and be entertained. I’m already a writer, but my goal is to be a GOOD writer.
Am I wasting my time?
To be honest, I was perfectly happy until I read these old writings a few hours ago. Maybe its just a bad mood. Maybe it’ll blow over, and I can go back to being blissfully ignorant.
I really wish I had something published. That’s like professional validation that you have reached the next level of writing skill. If writing were an RPG, then I feel like I’ve been grinding for years and have never levelled up.
I hope tomorrow brings happy thoughts.






